


Cars that hover and dads who come home

by Polyhexian



Series: Live Every Day Like Your Mom Said it Was Alright [16]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Multi, POV Third Person, Post-Canon, Pre-war cybertron warnings IE slavery functionism state sanctioned violence etc, We r talking about beastformers, deepcut idw references as usual, this is gonna be a long one lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian
Summary: Whirl's got three kids, two Conjunxes and one excellent support structure. He's doing pretty well- if only the rest of the world could say the same. Cybertronians don't know what to do with themselves if they aren't fighting eachother, it seems.
Relationships: Cyclonus/Tailgate/Whirl (Transformers)
Series: Live Every Day Like Your Mom Said it Was Alright [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596922
Comments: 40
Kudos: 112





	1. Post-war (supposedly)

"Reverb, straighten your spinal strut a bit, and- yes, there you go, excellent," Cyclonus said, correcting the little quadcopter's form. Echo found himself dealing well with structure and precision, but Reverb found such things tedious and took more after Whirl than Cyclonus when it came to technique.

"Am I good?" Echo asked, even though he knew his stance had already been approved of. 

"Yes," said Cyclonus, who also knew he had already told him this, "Alright, match, set: you may begin."

Echo darted forward, footwork quick as he jabbed with the trainer sword, but Reverb had been swordfighting with his brother long enough to know he always took a bold first move and had sidestepped to parry without hesitating. The trainer swords thwapped together and Reverb swiveled to raise his for an angled strike, two handed. Echo ducked out of the way, even though it caught him on his shoulder kibble on the downswing as he turned to thwap his brother in the side with his sword.

"Point!" Tailgate called, waving. 

"It wasn't clean," Cyclonus commented, as Echo stood straight and leaned back on his heels to peak at his shoulder kibble, paint scuffed, "Thought it was still a very quick response."

"You don't take points off from Dad when he dislocates his shoulder to get out of a hold," Echo complained, "it's just kibble! It shouldn't count." 

" _Dad_ does not know what to _do_ with a sword," Cyclonus tutted.

Whirl scoffed from the sideline, leaning on Tailgate with his elbows like a stool, "A points a point!"

"Much as I like to win, I gotta side with dad on this one," Reverb said, rubbing the annoying sting from the trainer sword in his side, "if it was a real fight I'd be dead and he'd be fine." 

"Hm," Cyclonus set his jaw, grim, "But what about when you want to disengage the battlefield after you've defeated _this_ opponent and cannot because you have damaged your stabilizer strut? You might have felled your first enemy, but the next will have an easy mark." He shifted his pedes and sighed, tugging his grave faceplate into a smile despite himself, "That is to say, you can have the point, but I know you can do better." 

Reverb stuck out his tongue at Echo between his pointed fangs. "No way. Next point is mine."

"As _if_ ," Echo snorted, swivelling back into his starting position and sliding his pedes back into place, " _You_ only beat me at hand to hand combat, dummy."

* * *

Reverb had his arms crossed on top of his dad's head, legs on his shoulders. He hated lines more than anything else on Cybertron. He was not a patient child. 

"...and by that point, I'd already basically eaten the entire box, so it was too late to play it cool," the old soldier continued, while his older sister held her mouth in one servo, trying not to laugh at the story, "I had to make a decision at that point, so I made the decision to break through the window, and-"

"What are they doing?" Reverb asked, watching a group moving around in the center of the spacebridge port. 

"Hm?" his dad hummed, tilting his helm up toward him, which threatened to knock Reverb off, before following his optics to the group. Reverb knew what beast formers were, he'd met several, including uncle Waspinator, so he could recognize them even in their root modes. They weren't especially common, though, and it was certainly noteworthy to see so many together.

"Are those Eukarians?" Whirl asked. Their dad nodded.

"Oh, yeah, they're like, protesting. They'll pull out their signs in a minute once they're set up, you'll see."

"What are they protesting?" Reverb asked, watching the group rummage about in their bags and set down blankets. 

"They're out here saying folk been treatin' 'em unfairly," his dad explained, "and that no one is doin' nothin' about it. They want you to know somethin' sideways is goin' on."

"Oh," Reverb nodded, "Me?" 

"Not you," Whirl said, sounding sympathetic, "but other people. We are a pro-Eukarian family."

"We are?" Echo asked, looking up from his gamepad.

"If all three of your mentors bite it, you two will be moving in with Uncle Waspinator," Dad sniffed.

"Dad! Geez, that's such a morbid way to say that," Whirl admonished him. The line moved forward a step, finally. 

"Which is to say," their dad continued, "Yes, we are a very pro-Eukarian family. I woulda protested stuff too back in my day, but it wouldn't have ended well for me. So good for them n'all that."

"Man, I hope Brainstorm knows we're going to be late," Whirl sighed, "he hates it when you leave him waiting." 

"Oh, I've done far worse to old Storms and he hasn't lost my number yet," their dad waved, "it'll be fine."

* * *

"You're late!" Brainstorm tutted, throwing his arms wide.

"I don't control spacebridge traffic!" Whirl Sr complained, "the trip from Tetrahex to Iacon is essy, do you really gotta be livin' out in the boonies like this?"

"What, do you not _like_ the sonic canyons?" Brainstorm pouted, "Me and Perce are studying the wavelengs of reverberates transformation sounds in the upper eastern sector. You would not _believe_ the data we've compiled!"

"Wouldn't be able to read it, either," Whirl Sr complained, making a gesture as if to wretch toward his optic.

"I wouldn't expect you too," Brainstorm huffed indignantly, standing aside to usher the twins and the Whirls into his workshop, "Perhaps the boys have developed more of an interest in the wonders of scientific exploration than their mentor, hm?"

"I think science is cool!" Echo said, "I like reading and writing papers a lot, especially. Data is cool."

"And I like learning anything!" Reverb added, not to be outdone. 

"Well, today, we are _not_ going to delve into the intricacies of audio refraction!" Brainstorm cheered, putting his servos on his hips, briefcase dangling from one wrist, "We are delving into the exciting territory of xenomorphic biology!"

"Its not _xeno_ morphic," Whirl Jr frowned, leaning on a table, "We're still a Cybertronian race."

"Ah, yes, but _you_ were born in deep space, my dear, and are thus, an alien life form."

"I suppose that's technically true."

"Precisely!" Brainstorm spun away again to pull out a machine lined with tiny displays and cables. "Haven't had to dust this old bugger off in awhile."

"I've been keeping up with my supplements," Little Whirl said proudly.

"So what is it?" asked Reverb.

"It's for me," Whirl Jr told him, "It's for scanning all kinds of data on my network. Brainstorm is basically my doctor."

"A medic for one!" Brainstorm nodded, and then snapped his fingers, "That reminds me! Whirl, you old sod, I heard _you_ were going to medical school in Iacon!"

"Sure am," Whirl Sr puffed, straightening his spinal strut, "Soon enough I'll be doing _more_ wacky surgeries." 

"Maybe let the warlords die next time," Brainstorm laughed, though a bizarre underlying current of tension ran beneath the words.

"No promises," Whirl Sr said, still equally as tense, before changing the subject, "So, we're all real excited about your new gun idea. I'm gonna sit over there and take a nap while you play with the kids." Whirl stood up and stretched, wobbling away to sit somewhere more comfortable.

"Alas, relegated to babysitter once more. Ah, well," Brainstorm shrugged, "Alright, tykes, here's your science visors, to keep acid out of your optics in the lab. One can never be too careful."

"So, this reverse gun," Whirl Jr prompted, "This medicine bullet thing you've been working on. How can I help?" 

"Right-o!" Brainstorm turned back toward her, "It's actually all go to do with the way your intrasystem network communicates- the hivemind nature of it, as it were. Basically I just need you to sit here quietly while I run some more diagnostics."

"Aw, boring, I miss when I got to break stuff," Whirl Jr sighed, putting her servos on the desk behind her and pushing herself up to sit on it, legs crossed. 

"Is it gonna hurt?" Echo asked, watching Brainstorm unfurl an array of wires from the machine and pass them to Whirl.

"Nah," said Whirl, "I used to do this all the time when I was your size."

Reverb clambered up behind Brainstorm to investigate the machine's plethora of displays, "How come?"

"Honestly we weren't even sure when I was little if I could hold the same shape for too long," Whirl said, shape rippling as she poked probes inside of plating layers, "Or like, my lifespan, or like, immune system or anything, there's not a lot of medical data on scraplets."

"How come?" Reverb repeated. 

Whirl paused, shrugged, "I'm not a really typical colony. It's really unusual for this many nanites to stay in the same group for so long. We have a high dispersal rate."

"So why do you?" Reverb asked, "What made you decide to stay together?" 

"Dad being ridiculous," she said, fiddling with a misplaced wire in her side while Brainstorm adjusted nobs and dials the twins didn't remotely have context for, "Well, also, long-term isolation in space didn't give me a lot of options, Dad being ridiculous was just the last straw."

"Hey, Dad!" called Echo, "Whirl called you ridiculous!"

"Atta girl!" Whirl Sr waved from the other side of the room behind a table stacked with half finished inventions. 

"Hey, you, purple one," Brainstorm said, poking Reverb, "Want to help me set some of these dials?" 

Reverb's optics glittered, looking at the complex machinery, "Yes."

* * *

"I think uncle Brainstorm is fun," said Reverb, kicking his pedes beneath his subway seat, "I wish we could have blown something up today."

"Aww, we can blow something up when we get home, if you want, kiddo," said Whirl Sr, patting him on the back. Reverb sighed.

"It's not the same." 

Echo tapped away at his gamepad, totally oblivious. Reverb cast a sidelong glance at his dad, who was watching him play, before leaning over to Whirl Jr.

"Do you think Uncle Waspinator will let me try engex today if I ask nicely?" he whispered. Whirl Jr snorted.

" _Dad_ would let you if Tailgate and Cyclonus wouldn't stop him." 

Reverb glanced back up at their dad, running calculations in his head of the next time he'd have him home alone, "But Waspinator makes all the weird stuff." 

"Well, that's because it's his job," she said, "I'm sure he'll make you one of those carbonated things you like, though."

Reverb licked his lips, thinking about it. No one else carbonated energon. He loved the stuff. "Yeah, I'd rather have that," he admitted, eventually. The train dinged to a stop and the four of them stood up, making their way off and onto the platform. 

"What's going on?" asked Reverb, as soon as they were clear of the train. The platform was broiling with unmistakeable tension, a plume of smoke in the distance and two distinctly separate crowds that seemed to be yelling at eachother. 

"C'mere," Whirl Sr said, grabbing each of the twins in one claw, "Whirl?"

"On it," said Junior, transforming and lifting off in one fluid motion. 

"C'mon, let's scoot out of here," Whirl said, ushering the kids sideways along the platform to skirt the crowd. Whirl Jr flew back down and landed with a thump.

"We can get out this direction," she said, waving him off in the opposite direction he had been moving. They walked briskly, Whirl Sr eyeing the tense display of protestors and anti-protestors with concern as they left the station platform and entered Iacon's city center. 

"What was that about?" asked Reverb, tugging on his dad's claw. 

"Um, pro'lly nothin'," Whirl Sr deflected, looking up and across the street at Maccadam's New Old Oil House, "Whirligirl, do you think you can fly the twins home while I check in on Waspinator?"

"I think so, yeah, I-"

"Aw, no, I don't wanna go home yet!" Echo whined, "You said we could see Uncle Waspinator today!"

"Yeah, I know I said that, but-"

Across the street they heard a terrifying yowling, cat shrieks and rending metal. 

"What was that?!" Junior gasped.

"That's Howlback!" Whirl said, and then ducked, scooping both twins off the ground when two quick gunshots rang out, and the square erupted in the kind of panicked frenzy one can only expect from an entire planet with PTSD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sticks m legy out.... Drama! Intrigue! The outline for this fic is two pages lol so expect a long one. I mean. Hopefully. I'm terrible at long fics. Tags will be added as they become relevant, I hate when ppl have a character or ship tagged because they appear later but they're not there YET and I'm thirsty. 
> 
> The kids are growing up, we got rising tensions on cybertron again because none of these people have EVER known how to be normal. Hope waspinator is okay!
> 
> Also, I've got a blog now, whirlibirb on Tumblr! Blease come talk to me about whirl


	2. Live free or die soft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho ho, sorry for two chapters in one day but I had mostly finished this one before I posted the first one to make sure I had my timing all lined up correctly, but I really really wanted this to be its own chapter. :P

Howlback was not a morning mech. 

She was a deeply _prudent_ mech, for sure, so she had woken on a very tight schedule at 0500 hours every solar cycle for most of her life, but that didn't mean she _liked_ it. It only meant she was very, very good at surpassing her nature. 

She yawned, despite herself. 

"Kittygirl doezz not need to be here zzo early," Waspinator told her, wiping down the bar around her coffee. It was an Earth drink she had no business imbibing, it had no nutritional value whatsoever, but God, it was really good. Bitter, black, vile coffee.

"If you are here, I am here," she stated, setting her head back down on the countertop as the bartender turned away to open the register, "Not being here so early would defeat the point."

"Kittygirl worry too much," Waspinator handwaved, "Wazzpinator can take care of himzzelf."

"Is there any particular reason you are actively aware of that you speak in third person?" Howlback asked. 

Waspinator paused, turning to look at her, "What?"

"Is there a reason? Do you know what it is?"

"Why doezz kittygirl not uzze contractionzz?" Waspinator buzzed, sliding the drawer shut and sounding annoyed, "Izz quirk."

"I use contractions all the time," Howlback scoffed, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Right."

"Very well," Howlback sighed, "I apologize for prying, then." She pushed her muzzle into her saucer and tilted it forward with one paw, finishing its contents, "I will be outside if you have need of me." 

She hopped down from her stool and trotted back out the front doors. Waspinator shook his head. He did not understand his strange new bouncer and was beginning to accept that he never would. 

* * *

Howlback had joined the war early. Earlier than most. Forged before the Clampdown, she had lived first in the singing crystal fields of Praxus's Helix Gardens with her identical twin, Glit. Spark twins were a fairly rare natural occurence, always a novelty the upper classes fascinated themselves with, though beastformers and minibots relatively smaller size made it more likely a split spark would have room and protoform to develop fully. She had fond memories of the gardens, actually, mostly of napping in sunny spots and idly hunting cybersparrows, posing languidly for photos taken by visitors who recognized correctly that she was a truly beautiful, graceful creature, a blessing to witness.

She had been given a gifted, upper class education on art and language, on dance and movement. She had learned poetry and song and how to run through a series of pegs without brushing a single one, how to twirl streamers like water, how to balance on tiny stones in the pond. Her and her brother had been popular, in their home, considered an attraction in their own right, the twin cybercats of the Helix Gardens. She had found value in her life, luxurious as it was, and in the foolish notion that she was meant as a guardian of it, an ethereal beast meant to protect it's beauty from an increasingly cruel world.

She did not learn to resent her life until she was given her first official classification under the new Functionist standard: _ornament._

Her identification card had baffled her when she received it. Her brother had taken it far more in stride, seeming to have understood his place in the world far more than she had. Once she had enjoyed the cooing and praise she received from strangers that admired her prowling the gardens, but now those same patronizing looks only enraged her when she left to access a public information terminal and research her new classification. It was a fairly uncommon one, only first classified recently to an orange Cybe with a standard bipedal root mode, a psychiatrist who lived far away in Rodion. This did not make sense to her at the time. She was a _cybercat_ , not an _ornament_. 

It was only then she had learned how few beastformers received a classification under the new standard based on their actual alt mode, rather than on the role they filled in society. They were being classified differently than other Cybes, leaving their true percentage of the population and therefore influence on it an unknowable, uncountable mystery.

She would never love the gardens again. 

Her reputation would outgrow her soon enough. Glit may have been content to sunbathe and sing songs to the methane mounted crystal structures, but she became irate, resentful, hissing at those who approached, more and more wild and feral with each moment she accepted the reality that she was an _ornament_. Her life had no greater meaning or value than to be _observed_. 

The first time she raked her claws down one of the crystal trees and dug furrows into the structure, irreparable ruts that left it _ugly_ in a way that utterly delighted her, she had been dragged from the gardens and locked in a _cage_. She hasn't been aware such a thing even _existed_ , but it had her name on it. 

It was that night, laying in cramped, dark quarters behind grated bars that she realized for the first time that she was not just an _ornament_. She was a _pet._

She was _owned._

* * *

"Good morning, Sandstorm," said Howlback, nodding to the old Wrecker as he approached. 

"C'mon, it's almost noon," he grumbled, as he trudged up the steps.

"Almost," Howlback agreed, "Identification, please."

"Do we really need to do this every time?" Sandstorm sighed, "You obviously know who I am."

"I log my scans," Howlback explained, "It creates a traceable record of patrons, should something occur."

"Fine," Sandstorm said, begrudgingly allowing her to scan his Autobrand, "How's Nators doing today? Is he alright?" 

"He is doing as well usual," Howlback said, scanning the identification confirmation quickly in her HUD, "Ever the optimist, not even anti-beastformer protests outside his place of business can shake his mood."

"I thought they were just anti-Eukarian?" Sandstorm blinked, standing up straight and looking back at the demonstration in the square between Maccadam's and the train station and the bipedal mech giving a rousing speech about aliens taking Cybertronian jobs. 

"Do not mistake their intent," Howlback sneered, watching along with undisguised disgust, "They are not protesting Velocitronians or Camiens. Their disdain lies with the dirty animals living among them, as it always has."

Sandstorm frowned, sniffed, and then looked back down at her, "Do you hate other beastformers or something?"

She jolted, startled, "I beg your pardon?"

"You just always say stuff like that, animal or bug and stuff. Nators hates being called an animal, I never hear him use that word for beastformers. You're the only one I know that says stuff like that." 

"That is ridiculous, and deeply offensive," Howlback scoffed, wrinkling her nose at him, "You could not possibly understand." 

"Sorry," he shrugged, "I mean, you're right, I guess. See you later, Howlers." 

She grimaced at the overly familiar nickname from an overly familiar mech as he pushed the door open and went inside. She turned her optics back to the anti-Eukarian demonstration in the square, flicking her tail but otherwise completely rigid, still as a statue as she ran idle calculations in her head of how many in the crowd she could theoretically take down before the Autobot police arrived.

* * *

Howlback had chewed on the grate all night like the animal she had been treated as and not the fully sentient adult Cybertronian she actually was. She had not had the strength or dexterity to break free. 

The next day when her "owner" opened the cage she had torn his arm off with her teeth and dug her claws deep into his chest until he howled for mercy, and she had given him none. She hadn't killed him, but only because she hadn't really known how at the time. Cybertronians are notoriously difficult to kill. 

She had fled the gardens and never looked back. It was not long after that Howlback was contacted by a Cybercat named Ravage living in Stanix who had heard about the delicate feline pet that lived in the Helix Gardens who had turned feral and fled. Within a decacycle she had sacrificed a portion of her sparkchamber to forge her Deceptibrand, started going by she, and never once looked back. 

By the time the war was officially declared she had been labeled a terrorist by the Autobot government and had learned how to properly and effectively kill a Cybertronian. She had once used her claws to carve artwork into delicate sheaths of crystal, and had taught herself instead how to carve artwork into Sentio Metallica. She had once hunted cybersparrows in the sunlight and now hunted Autobots in the dark.

Howlback did not _like_ the standard root mechs, the non-beasts, but she did quite enjoy how frequently they underestimated her. She revelled both in upstaging them in brutality as a wild beast, and intellectually as an educated bot they expected to be a dumb animal. She never lost her taste for poetry, though she tended to drench hers in other people's energon when she recited it into their dying audials. 

She wasn't surprised when she was the Decepticon most wanted by Autobot command within her captured unit, some ways into the war. She'd much preferred to die on the battlefield and take down as many bots as she could with her, but she hadn't had much of a choice. She'd watched them with her head held high while the rest of her squadron was summarily executed after their trials with Aequitas, and been surprised to learn her sentence had been commuted to life in prison due to the unusual circumstance of her birth. In her absence, her forgotten sparkbrother had, apparently, committed himself to the Autobots, and become a doctor. She had felt him, sometimes, through their shared spark, distant and quiet, but had never really considered he might have left the gardens, even though they were long since gone. The Autobots knew that killing her would put him to the same fate, and so they put her in a cage.

Howlback was not well liked within Garrus-9.

A guard had tried to hit her only one time, when she idled too long in line at the cafeteria. She had torn his arm off and disabled three other guards before they finally overwhelmed her, and had spent the next six months in solitary confinement. She passed her time idly by carving artwork into the steel walls of her cell with her claws until Overlord arrived.

Howlback had no issues with violence, and a reputation to prove it, but she found Overlord's torture circus utterly pointless and devoid of merit. She very quickly assessed the situation and chose to barricade herself within her cell rather than report to Megatron's pet psychopath while he played murder games. After a year of Overlord's dictatorship over Garrus-9, she had three other beastformers living in her cell, and piles of bodies outside of it, drained nearly of energon, walls painted with artwork she would share with no one else. Through her spark throughout the entire ordeal she could sense the push pull of another, pleading _don't die_. 

She had not died.

* * *

Howlback twitched her ears as the door behind her opened and Waspinator waved, chipper as always, before he trotted over beside her and sat down with a thump on the stairs, holding up a cube of energon to her in one hand and holding one for himself in another

"Wazzpinator brought kittygirl lunch!" he chittered happily. 

"Thank you," she said, dipping her head politely, "Though, I believe you have customers right now."

Waspinator waved dismissively, "Wazzpinator told Zzandzztorm to zzhoot anyone who triezz to zzteal anything."

"He will, you know," Howlback commented wryly, mouth twitching toward a smirk as she took her cube and placed it on the ground, laying forward on her paws to lap at it contentedly in the midday sunshine. 

"Good!" Waspinator laughed, "Azz long azz everyone know thizz, no one will zzteal from Wazzpinator, and Zzandzztorm will not have to zzhoot anyone."

"Fair enough."

Waspinator sipped at his cube, and Howlback noted his glittering violet optics watching the demonstration that was still going on in the square.

"Are you concerned?" she asked, raising her head. 

"Zzomewhat," Waspinator admitted.

"If you lose _another_ window, it will be over my dead body," she said dryly.

"Kittygirl hazz already zztopped three inzzidents!" Waspinator exclaimed, "Wazzpinator very grateful."

"It is not a problem," she responded, lapping at her lunch again.

"Wazzpinator zztill need to azzk, again, what kittygirl wantzz," Waspinator said, both hands on his cube, claws fidgeting against one another anxiously, "zzhe hazz worked at Wazzpinator bar for monthzz now, for free."

"I do not work for free," she deflected, "You provide me lunch."

"Kittygirl izz deflecting."

Howlback frowned at him. He had the nasty habit of being predictable, manipulable even, 95% of the time. 5% of the time, though, he would cut to the absolute core of a person in a single sentence and leave them floundering for a response. She hadn't yet decided if she hated that trait or admired it.

Howlback watched the protesters as they began to chant something, moving in a wave as they became riled up over something the speaker had said she could not hear from this distance. 

"...Listen," she said, eventually, "There is something I should tell you."

* * *

Howlback learned shortly after leaving Garrus-9 with Shockwave that she had been incorrectly marked as a deserter rather than captured and had thus made her way onto The List. She held no love for the traitor nor any idea why he had selected her to bring with him when he left, but she had exited his employ at her first opportunity.

Tarn had, to his credit, admired her pluck for coming to him herself to correct the mistake. She had been fortunate her name was further down The List, fortunate that the DJD did not deviate from The List's order. She had been given until her name came up to prove she had not been a deserter, and she had done an excellent job as a DJD ride along for three hundred cycles.

Her name had come. It had been dismissed. She had returned to standard duty, with _DJD RESERVIST_ noted in red letters beneath her name on her Decepticon Command Profile. She had worn that title with no small amount of pride.

Her name had not been chosen. 

The war had ended. Shockwave had gone mad and tried to kill them all. Megatron had sworn allegiance to the Autobots. It was all quite a miserable affair for an old true believer, bitter still. She had more deeply resented her orders in the wake of the entire fiasco to help with _cleanup_ of confidential materials in the caverns of Crystal City, rather than anything that _couldn't_ be performed just as efficiently by a _drone_. Howlback had never understood her old friend Ravage's affection for the Decepticon's new apparent leader Soundwave, but she trusted his judgement enough not to make much of a fuss about it. 

That was the first time she met Waspinator.

* * *

"Hrrm?" buzzed Waspinator, tilting his head to the side. 

Howlback stared down into her energon, carbonated, swirling with a pearlescent sheen in it's glass cube. Premium grade. Not the cheap stuff. 

"Do you remember the first time we met?" she asked, finally.

"Oh, hrm, zztationed in Kaon?" he asked, blinking.

"No, no, not in Kaon," she corrected, "I mean the first time we actually spoke." 

"Oh!" Waspinator snapped his fingers, "In Cryzztal Zzity, when Kittygirl found Wazzpinator dying?"

"Yes," she said, thickly, swallowing, optics still trained on the liquid, "When I found you dying. What do you remember?"

"Wazzpinator wazz in and out of conzzciouzznezz," Waspinator nodded, "But Wazzpinator remember kittygirl zzitting with him until medic arrived."

"Yes…" she said, watching as the drink began to settle, still shimmering in the afternoon light, "You were very lucky to survive your injuries."

"Wazzpinator very lucky!" Waspinator smiled, four-way mouth flattening wide, "Luckier than mozzt!"

"...Waspinator," she said, hoarsely, "There's something I need to tell you."

"Wait," said Waspinator.

"No, Waspinator, this is important, it cannot wait any longer-" she started, looking up. The crowd had turned toward them, all staring. She didn't know what they were saying but she could see their mouths moving.

"What are they doing?" Waspinator said, standing. 

"Get back inside," Howlback ordered. Waspinator hesitated and she whipped her head toward him with a jaguar snarl, "Get back inside!"

The first brick hit the window and cracked it like a plane of ice, but it did not shatter. Howlback engaged her security override on the building, locking down the doors and dropping the newly installed blast shields. Overkill, for sure, but there were many mechs who still owed her favours and she had so few favours she ever needed to call in.

The ground shook with the thrum of heavy footfalls, of a stampede, and she debated on calling the Autobot police. She was hardly on good terms with any of them, and she had handled the last three incidents perfectly well on her own without their help. This, however, was more than she was confident she could quell with non lethal force. She was really not looking forward to sitting in solitary confinement in an Autobot prison again any time soon. 

"Cybertron emergency services, please state your location and the nature of your emergency," said the voice on the other end of the line, professional and level. 

"Iacon city center," Howlback commed internally, since she suddenly found her jaws preoccupied with another mech's leg as she yanked it out from under him, crunching down on the metallica until it buckled like paper, "Riot. I am outside of Maccadam's. I require immediate assistance."

"Complaint has been registered and enforcers are on their way. May I ask who is calling?"

"Decepticon Brigadier General Howlback," she commed, internal voice still as level and professional as the operator's as she tackled someone prying at the blast doors, "Acting Chief of Security for Maccadam's New Old Oil House."

"Oh!" gasped the operator, shaken from their calm demeanor. Howlback suppressed a rush of giddy delight her name had clearly been recognized, "Noted. Thank you for your report."

"Any time," said Howlback, cutting the line and grabbing another mech by the arm and swinging him into those behind them, sending a line of them toppling down the stairs.

"Hey! Get away from Wazzpinator bar!" a voice buzzed from behind her, "Wazzpinator pay taxezz like everybody elzze!"

Howlback whipped around, "I thought I told you to go _back inside_?!"

"Ha! Kittygirl funny," Waspinator laughed, and fired a tazer bullet, "Wazzpinator izz not damzzel."

"Damn it, Waspinator!" Howlback swore, kicking at someone who had grabbed her tail with her hind legs, "I can _handle_ this!" 

"Why doezz kittygirl even _need_ to handle thizz?" Waspinator buzzed, rolling his optics, "Kittygirl owe Wazzpinator nothing."

"Yes, I _do_ , though!" Howlback howled, "You don't _understand_!" she scrabbled at the concrete, but whoever had a grip on her tail had it _vicelike,_ probably in a clamp, honestly, and she couldn't detach herself.

Waspinator paused, turning to look at her in confusion, "Wazzpinator not understand what?" he asked.

Behind him, a yellow Autobot with tank treads raised an ion blaster and lined up his sights. Howlback felt her spark tighten and turned, wrenching through her tail with her teeth and the sound of shrieking metal before she leapt forward with a furious caterwaul. 

* * *

Waspinator's name had been added to The List the moment he had pledged his allegiance to Jhiaxus. He was a well documented deserter. He was also laying on the ground, with a hole in his chest and surrounded by an absolutely outrageous amount of energon. Howlback found herself genuinely unable to comprehend how he could possibly still be alive with such a visibly mortal injury, until she had found a shard of Ore-14 clutched in his unconscious claws. 

Ore-14 was a curious little creation of Shockwave's, able to revive the dead. A Transformer with a tank full of Ore-14 could in no way be killed until it was drained. It was an invaluable resource, unlike the Empty currently clutching it.

It was an interesting conundrum. Waspinator was technically a deserter, technically on the list. Howlback was technically not a member of the DJD and therefore under no obligation to do anything about that. Waspinator was, also, a beastformer. She had only met him once or twice in passing in the past, and had found him to be dull, unambitious, the textbook stereotype she had been held to all her life. 

She took the Ore-14 from his claws, bent back his death gripped fingers until they snapped, and hid it within the innermost subspace of her sparkchamber, small as it was. Ore-14 was likely to be an unreplicable anomaly after this whole fiasco, and she considered handing it over to her superiors, but she didn't trust Ravage's judgement _that_ much. She would hold onto it herself until either Megatron came to his senses or it became otherwise useful.

The effect on Waspinator was immediate. Even unconscious, he whined in that obnoxious buzzing voice of his, as if the pain of his injury had just kicked back in. She stood over Waspinator for several kliks, watching as he continued to bleed out, torn open internals sparking, limbs twitching, his tiny, pathetic cries as he began to fade offline. She rolled her eyes at the pitiful display and stood up, placing one of her paws on his throat to crush it.

And then he cracked his optics open at the contact, blearily returning to brief consciousness and said, so quietly she at first thought she might have imagined it, "Howlback?"

She was taken completely aback, raising her paw in confusion. She knew _him_ , certainly, she made it her job to know _everyone_ , but they had never spoken. She had no idea why he would have remembered her well enough to recognize her as he was dying. 

"Yes," she said to him, voice flat.

"From the Helix Gardenzz?"

Howlback set her muzzle into a grimace. Of course that's where he knew her from.

"Once upon a time," she said. 

"The DJD rezzervizzt?" Waspinator prodded further, and she went completely still. He would not have known that without looking at her profile. He _did_ know who she was.

"Yes," she said again, more hesitantly. 

"Oh," he buzzed, twitching, "Wazzpinator wizzh you had gotten here zzooner. Everyone know Howlback izz very zztrong, maybe fight would have gone better with her here. Wazzpinator maybe not get immediately zztabbed." 

She stared at him, uncomprehending. He was _dying_. What was he talking about?

"Perhaps," she said, even more uncertainly. 

"Thank you for zztaying with Wazzpinator," he said, as his optics fizzled and shorted out, "I didn't want to die alone."

He had stopped moving there, though his spark still pulsed weakly, and something had broken inside her chest she hadn't even realized was still intact in the first place. She opened a commline she had not accessed in four million years.

"Glit," she said into an ancient, neglected sparkbond, "I need you."

* * *

Howlback hit Waspinator in the chest, front feet forward, and did not have time to wince at the feeling of energon under her claws from the force of it as he fell backwards. She saw the Autobot rioter's muzzle flare twice, though she didn't really register the feeling of the bullets as they tore through her chest.

She was offline before she hit the ground.


	3. You don't crush an egg with a hammer when a boot will do

Whirl felt his audials ringing, even though the sound hadn't been that bad. He ignored the intrusive little voice that started snidely telling him that he was going soft without a war and it was going to get him killed, and clutched the twins beneath his cockpit, mind racing.

"Junior, take the boys home," he said, snapping his helm up.

"Right," Whirl Jr agreed, transforming and snapping her cockpit open. 

Whirl started to stand before he thought better of it and squeezed the twins one more time. "Love you," he said, and released them to clamber into their sister's care. The second she left the ground he was off toward Maccadam's.

He was scrabbling at four million years out of date riot control training when he settled for just transforming and blasting the hell out of everyone with his engine. At least it was distracting. It occurred to him, suddenly, and deeply frustratingly, he had no idea how to fight effectively without killing anyone.

Whirl found himself bizarrely relieved to hear the approach of the Autobot police. He let them take over and pushed his way to the front of the mob, even now starting to scatter. "Waspinator!" he called, catching a glimpse of his friend's chitinous green frame through the throng of moving bodies, "Waspinator, are you alright?!"

He shoved a mech over and froze.

Waspinator was sitting across three levels of stairs, clutching his ragdolled, motionless bouncer in his lap, soaked in energon, and not the good stuff. 

"Kittygirl wake _up_ ," Waspinator buzzed, voice cracking, tightening his grip around the still body of the Cybercat, "Wazzpinator izz tired of lozzing friendzz!"

Behind him, Whirl could sense the crowd beginning to settle as they were broken up, scattering or being grabbed. He shook his helm, snapping away unhelpful awareness, "Move, I have to do first aid."

Waspinator set Howlback down on the steps beside him and scrambled back out of the way as Whirl dropped to his knees and cracked open his medical data packets on bullet wounds. 

"It izz not _fair_ ," whined Waspinator, kneeling at the top of the stairs and hanging his head, "Wazzpinator tired of lozzing people. Wazzpinator want it to zztop. Wazzpinator want it to _zztop_!" 

Whirl felt his spark pulsing rapidly in his chest as he pulled her up, trying to determine if they were through and through or entrance sounds only. His first real test that mattered, and he felt immediately, uncomfortably out of his depth. Distantly he was aware of people moving around him, behind him, voices speaking and barking orders, but not to him. 

"Over and over and over again," Waspinator continued, hands clenching into fists against the pavement, knuckles digging into the ground as he shook, "Why Zzybertronianzz hate peazze zzo much? Why izz everyone zzo determined to be mizzerable!" 

"We're _determined_ to protect the rights of _actual_ Cybertronians on Cybertron!"

Waspinator looked up, locking optics with the yellow Autobot who had shot at him, bent forward on the ground over his knees, servos in handcuffs behind his back. Waspinator found the hatred in this stranger's optics baffling, incomprehensible, but not unfamiliar. 

Waspinator's shoulders tightened inward, wings flaring as his claws dug deeper into the concrete. "Wazzpinator _izz_ Zzybertronian! Wazzpinator wazz forged in Tezzaruzz, Wazzpinator wazz there when the firzzt five zzitiezz of Zzybertron fell! Wazzpinator belong here!"

"Oughtta belong to _someone_ ," the Autobot snorted, smirking.

Waspinator's side-split mouth flared in a wordless, furious scream and he launched himself forward toward the already detained Autobot, and Whirl barely realized what he was doing in time to grab him and slam him down.

"Primus, Waspinator, there's _cops_ here, they'll arrest you, too," Whirl hissed, holding the much smaller Waspinator down with one claw while he tried to focus on keeping pressure with the other.

“Nn-” Waspinator groaned, pushing against Whirl’s hold, unable to overpower him, “Izz not _fair!_ Wazzpinator hazz been fighting war with zztandard-formerzz zzince before Declaration Day, Wazzpinator izz zzo _tired_ of fighting!”

“Don’t give them an excuse, Wasp,” Whirl mumbled, but Waspinator had stopped struggling, and he let him go. Waspinator pushed himself back to his knees, wiping his optics on his claws.

“Kittygirl?” he asked, weakly.

“Alive, somehow,” Whirl said hoarsely, “I think she's got a _hole_ in her spark chamber, I have no idea why she’s not gone grey. This is way above my paygrade.”

Waspinator stared at the motionless catformer, optics offline, spilling energon from her burst open chest beneath Whirl's twisted claws. This was the second time she had saved his life, and he still barely knew her, he still had no idea why she was trying to tell him she had to. Distantly, he thought he heard someone telling him to stand up, more sirens arriving, more yelling in the crowd, but the words turned to mush in his audials.

* * *

Tailgate snapped up his head at the sound of the front door unlocking. The door swung open and Whirl caught his optics, silent, before he stepped inside and ushered Waspinator in, closing it behind him.

“I said he could crash the night,” Whirl mumbled, withdrawing his claws from the door handle and turning around, “Since he lives alone.”

“Of course,” Tailgate said, quickly, “That’s what friends are for.”

“Wazzpinator do not want to cauzze trouble,” Waspinator mumbled, halfheartedly, like he’d already gone through the motions of this argument.

“It’s no trouble. Come, you’re still covered in energon, the washracks are over here,” Tailgate led Waspinator down the hallway and left Whirl standing in the foyer. He hovered for a moment, before looking up and catching Whirl Jr's optics in the kitchen. 

"Is Waspinator okay?" she asked, leaning on the table in the dimly lit room. 

"He's fine," Whirl mumbled, joining her in the kitchen and grabbing a cube of low-grade from the cooler, "Howlback is in a coma."

"Is she gonna come out of it?"

"Dunno," Whirl drained the glass and leaned back against the counter. 

Whirl Jr put her chin into her elbow and sighed. "I feel like every time I visit Cybertron things get worse here."

"People are gettin' twitchy without a war," Whirl mumbled, "Lookin' for excuses to make trouble."

"...I've been thinking," little Whirl started, picking her head back up and looking at her hands, "Maybe I should take the kids for a bit, show them what it's like on Earth for a little while, and-"

"No, no," Whirl said, waving a claw, "No way. _You're_ still a kid, you have way too much on your plate right now to be lookin' out for bitlets, too."

"I'm not a kid, Dad, I'm an adult now, and-"

"I can't ask that of you," Whirl croaked, hoarse, "You already didn't get the childhood I wanted you to get, we are not doing that."

"...Alright." 

"I dunno. Sandy lives out in the boonies, way out from the city. Maybe we can go visit him for a bit. Get away from," he waved a claw vaguely, "All this."

"What about medical school?" 

Whirl whined and made a vague wiggly hand gesture and Junior frowned at him. "Maybe I'll stay, I guess," he sighed, "I dunno. I'll call Sandstorm in the morning. If he doesn't call me first when he realizes the bar ain't open." 

"...Offer stays on the table, okay?" Junior said. Whirl groaned, looked at the ceiling, then sighed and nodded. 

"I'll let you know. Where are they, anyway?" 

"Cyclonus took them out back for swordfighting practice," Junior said, waving towards the patio doors, "I told him I didn't think it was a good idea."

"Ugh," Whirl groaned, "I'm sure he's caught up in his head freaking out at the idea he's left 'em unprepared to defend themselves again."

"Do I have your permission to go rescue them then?" Junior asked.

"No, I should do that."

"Should you?" Junior cocked an eyebrow at him and Whirl stared at her for a moment, confused, before he snapped his optic back down to himself and realized he was still covered in energon up to his shoulders. He'd medivacced the Cybercat to Iacon's nearest hospital and still had dried energon in the deepest recesses of his cockpit internals.

"Frag," Whirl swore, "Right."

"I'll go get the boys, then."

"Right, yeah, fine… ugh," Whirl groaned, setting his helm in one claw, exhausted, "What a load of slag this has been. You know, you? I don't have to worry about you like this. I know if things go tails up with you, you got a better handle on yourself than anybody else in the room will. _You_ can protect yourself. Sometimes I feel like- like I'm doing them a disservice raisin' em without a war. Like when Cybertron inevitably gives up the ghost and admits it has no idea how to function without everyone constantly fighting each other they won't have got the skills they need because I was too busy playin' house to do what I had to."

"I think you're just having a bad day," Whirl Jr sighed, standing up, "You need a shower and a good night's recharge. And something better than low-grade."

"Aw, shucks, kiddo, what did I tell you about bein' so smart, huh?" Whirl sighed, "I'm gonna go wash off. Tell the boys I'll be as quick as I can."

"Yeah," she lingered by the door frame for a moment before she turned back, "You were on the news, you know."

"Oh yeah?" Whirl said, looking up, "They treatin' riots like they're newsworthy now?" 

"They did a whole segment, talking about 'the war that started before declaration day.'" Junior chewed the inside of her mouth, hand on the patio door and worrying the handle, "I think things might get worse before they get better."

"...Yeah," Whirl mumbled, and Junior opened the door and stepped outside. 


	4. Good, or don't be

Whirl shifted and yawned, tapping at his datapad idly and playing a symbol matching game in the midday sunshine, before he heard the sound of approaching pedesteps and looked up, clicking the pad off. 

"You're late," he quipped.

"I'm always late," Sandstorm reminded him, sitting down beside him on the bench with a thump and sliding into a slouch.

"Fair," Whirl shrugged, "Traffic by the spacebridge port?"

"Yeah, security is up. Total nightmare." 

"Mm," Whirl mumbled, glancing up at the iron statue in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by crystal flowers that waved gently in the breeze. Wrecker Memorial Park was one of the nicer on Cybertron, well maintained and full of open fields for sparklings to practice donuts in their altmodes, sitting right on the edge of the Mithril Sea. Whirl had never been a big fan of the heroic pose they'd sculpted Springer's statue in- too self-important, he thought, not at all accurate. 

"How's Waspinator?" Sandstorm asked, after a moment of silence.

"Alright enough," Whirl shrugged, "You know Waspinator. He bounces back. He'll be alright. 

"And Howlers?"

"She's still in a coma. It's weird, though. I know I'm still, like, new to this stuff but- I dunno, it seems… weird. She got a hole right through her spark chamber- which is like, that's it, man, you get that, you're dead, you know?" Whirl sat up, gesturing, annoyed, "But her spark just sort of stayed in there. I dunno. Ironically I guess it's a good thing she was a Decepticon, since her Deceptibrand is already made from spark casing, they could use it to patch the hole."

"Ugh," Sandstorm shivered, "That freaks me out. I can't imagine shaving off part of your spark casing for that."

"I think it's neat."

"You would."

"Anyway," Whirl sighed, changing subjects, "How are things out in your neck of the woods? I assumed they would be quieter, since you live in the middle of nowhere."

"Things have been quiet for Sprint'n me," Sandstorm nodded, "I mean, people come out there, like, it's a place of business, but nobody's bringin' their troubles. So far, at least."

"Would you-"

"Obviously you can come stay with us," Sandstorm scoffed, "You shouldn't even have to ask."

" _I_ can't leave yet," Whirl huffed, frustrated, "School. The kids, though."

"Whatever, man," Sandstorm leaned back, "Family is family, Wreckers is family. Your family is my family. I didn't fuckin' veto you."

Whirl watched his friend for a moment, before he shook his head, "Thanks, Sandy." 

* * *

"I don't get why dad can't come, too," Echo complained, dragging his pedes. Tailgate tightened his grip on his hand as the little quadcopter tried to linger at yet another souvenir stand in the spacebridge port.

"Dad has school, remember? It will only be a little while," he reminded him. Echo exvented a long, protracted sigh as dramatically as he could.

"Yeahhhh I knooooowww, but can't he take a break if it's really only gonna be for a little while?"

"What, you can't go two weeks without seeing Dad?" Reverb stuck his tongue out, trailing beside his brother with at least slightly less instinct to dawdle. 

" _Obviously_ ," Echo pouted. 

"Come, little ones," Cyclonus rumbled, ignoring their bickering, "We don't want to be late to meet Uncle Sandstorm. He's picking us up."

"We aren't flying?" 

"We are, but we have to follow Uncle Sandy there," Tailgate explained, "It's a little out of the way." 

"Dad said he had pet organics," Reverb piped up, "Are they humans?"

"No, humans aren't pets," Tailgate tsked, "They're just small."

"Are they dogs?" 

Tailgate paused, "He might have _a_ dog."

"I like dogs," Echo supplied, "Do you remember the dog we met at Whirl's school on Earth? I liked that dog."

"It was a very nice dog," Tailgate agreed, stepping outside the front of the Toraxxis Plains spacebridge terminal, blinking his visor at the sudden change in light. 

"Hey, shortstop! Over here!" Tailgate turned his attention toward the voice and found Sandstorm parked against the curb, idling. It was far from a busy spacebridge port, with only one or two other Cybes lingering by the terminal doors besides themselves, and Sandstorm didn't bother transforming as his guests made their way over.

"Good to see you, Sandstorm, I hope the trip was not too inconvenient for you," Cyclonus said politely.

"Ain't nothin' but a thing. Y'all ready to hit the bricks?" 

"Are we?" Tailgate asked the twins, brightly. 

"Let's go see the organics!" Reverb chirped.

* * *

"I don't know," said Glit, "It's kind of incomprehensible." 

The cybercat had both front pedes on the medical slab, sniffing at Howlback's chest wound with a far off expression of deep thought.

"I'm telling you, it was through and through," Whirl said, "Like, an actual hole." 

"I wanna see the scans of that," Glit murmured, "It's mad. You just don't survive something like that. Not for more than a minute or two."

"It was at least an hour," Whirl said, sending him a datapacket download, "So what do you think?"

"I think we both oughta be dead." Glit sat back down on the floor, optics tracking as he scanned through the data, "This isn't normal."

Whirl tapped his helm in thought and leaned back against the wall. The monitor hooked up to the unconscious Howlback continued to beep in time with her sparkpulse, the only reminder she was still alive. 

"Well, she was pretty close to Decepticon high command," Whirl posited, "You think she could have gotten into something funny?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I dunno, that ain't my area," Whirl handwaved, "But word always was Shockwave and Mindwipe and all them was grabbing folk for wacky experiments every other day. Maybe she's had something done to her."

Glit tilted his head to the side, tail lashing. "Could be. She talks very little about things like that- at least to me. She's very proud." 

"I've noticed."

"There's no asking her now, though," Glit admitted, "But maybe I can ask around with any Decepticon medics still running. Even if there's rumours, it could be helpful, maybe."

"I'll ask Drift," Whirl nodded, "Maybe he would have heard something."

"Alright, it's a better plan than nothing," Glit sighed. He sat back up to lean forward on the side of the berth. "Come on, sis. What happened to you?"

* * *

"I don't know what to do," Whirl Jr admitted under a hushed breath, "I don't know why everything's changing suddenly."

"I don't like it either," Hot Shot murmured in agreement, "I won't lie. I'm glad we don't live on Cybertron."

"Same," she sighed, "But then I feel bad about that, too. I should want to be there, to be helping."

"I think you're too hard on yourself," Hot Shot commented. Whirl huffed a sigh, knowing he was probably right. 

"Hey guys," said a human voice, and the two Cybertronians turned to the door to see Miko waving her phone, "We just got new orders in from Cybertron. They want a census."

"A census?" Hot Shot repeated.

"Yeah, like, they want us to get some info from all of the Cybertronians living in Japan, you know," Miko explained. Whirl frowned.

"What for? We already have that info, with their passports. Why do we need to take a census?"

"They want us to look around for anyone who came without a passport," Miko answered.

"That's not exactly rescue work," Whirl said dubiously, "Is that really our job?"

"Well, you're in charge of policing all Cybertronians living in your jurisdiction, Whirl," Miko told her, "There's more laws than just speeding tickets out here."

"...Hrm," she hummed, a bad feeling in her gut.


End file.
